The Inspector's Niece: The Story of Adélaïde Javert
by Cinderstorm
Summary: It has been one month since Javert was rescued from La Seine and 28 days since The Inspector was forced to confront that he may hold something other than contempt for 24601. The duo spent the past 4 weeks learning about each other and discovering that it is never too late to live life right. But will the arrival of a young woman named Adélaïde ruin all of Javert's progress?


A carriage pulled up in front of the modest house allowing a young woman of average stature to exit the vehicle. Her only baggage appeared to be a leather satchel of the type used by businessmen and lawyers of the time. She paid the driver with several torn sous and as the horses pulled away from the old iron gate her eyes appraised the life which unfolded around her. Her eyes caught the afternoon sunlight that made her storm grey orbs glint like onyx as they alighted upon a young street urchin.

He was nothing remarkable, about six or seven at most. His clothes were a mismatch of fabric that could only be expected given the fact that he was most likely poor. The young woman's attention; however, was not caught by his fashion but by actions. The little boy was skulking by a broken section of the iron fence that encircled the cottage. As she watched his empty hand darted through the enclosure's opening and reappeared full of herbs.

Swiftly, the boy's blue eyes darted from side to side as if to gauge the discreteness of his snatch. The lady, hidden from the boy's view by a stone pillar, one of several that were placed at intervals along the fence watched as the urchin approached her a triumphant smile upon his face.

When he rounded the pillar he was not looking ahead but behind and walked smack dab into the woman waiting for him.

"Allo, sorry, bout that mademoiselle," he spoke in a broken dialect and bent to gather the herbs he had dropped in his haste to leave the scene of his crime.

"No trouble, tell me do you know who lives 'ere?" she posed the question in the same tone and inflection he had used. Then as an afterthought she added, "That's some nice greenery."

"Uh, some hermit; don't know her." he rushed out his answer, nerves making his voice shaky. He then made a motion to be on his way again but found himself blocked by the young woman. She crouched down in front of him, leaned her bag against the fence and looked him straight in the eye while keeping one hand on his shoulder.

"I know who lives here. They are friends of mine." she said, plainly in a proper and refined voice, "And I do not think those are yours." She inclined her head towards the herbs, the boy made as if to speak but thought better of it as she fixed him with a stern look. "I also do not think you are a trained thief so have out with it; what's the story?" she finished, slipping back into a street dialect with ease.

"I didn't mean to.." began the boy, whose blue eyes were bright and shiny with unshed tears.

"Hush. You did mean to." retorted the woman unrelentingly, "You looked at them, you thought about it, you planned it and you carried out your plan. You meant to steal them. Do you understand me?"

He nodded, now unable to meet her eyes. She cupped his dirty chin in one hand and forced him to look at her, "Now, why did you take them?"

The boy began to cry then as he recited a story about how his mother was afflicted with a terrible cough that wracked her body in spasms leavings her too weak to work. Her husband already deeming her unsalvageable goods had left with what little money there was to pursue work in another town. He had left his children because they were young, scrawny and his mind, not old enough to do a decent days work. Once the money had stopped coming in so had the food and quite soon his sister had fallen ill as well.

"Theys all I've got, my sista tol' me this flowr could cure 'em." He finished in a rush, his breathing heavy as if he had just run for his life. "Here." he said weakly, and dropped the herbs at her feet, "I'm sorry."

"Come," ordered the young woman who had risen to her feet and beckoned to the youngster. She had heard many similar stories and could not say she was particularly moved by any because then she might as well be a puddle of emotion upon the ground at all times. This boy; however, had passed her test. She knew her garden was sore temptation for thieves and if she could she laid before each one she caught this test of morality. The boy had given up his goods and renounced his actions. He had passed the test.

The boy trailed after her rather tentatively as she led him into the garden and brought him to the coltsfoot bush he had previously ransacked. "The flower is all yellow when it's ripe to be picked and used. Like these ones." she plucked off several fresh stalks of the herb and extended the medicine to the boy whose eyes grew wide but no longer shed tears.

"Prepare these stalks and flowers as you would tea. Have your mother and sister drink this tea thrice a day. This should last you a week if you are careful. If you have need of more come to me, no more skulking in the alleyways."

"But..why?" he asked, confusion clouding his face.

"You recognized the errors of you ways, you did not deny your guilt over and over. The law is important lad, remember that; it guides us and protects us. Now go to your family. May god bless you all."

"Thanks." he replied and doffing his little cap to the woman he turned and ran out of the garden down the street till she saw him no more.

She sighed as she gazed at her little coltsfoot patch and shaking her head went to retrieve her bag from the street in the case that no one had made off with it yet.

Javert had been in the study when he had heard the carriage come up, the sound of wheels rattling on the cobbled stone street was unmistakable. Intrigued, he closed up the book he was perusing; incidentally, it was a banned book that had caught his interest. "Corruption." he muttered under his breath, though the word no longer escaped his lips coated in venom; in fact at times it even made him smile. Laying Voltaire's Candide with care upon a side table he walked to the doorway of the study and proceeded to the parlour window where he found Valjean. The man was conspicuously attempting to disguise his body with a velvet curtain as he peered into the yard.

"With your incapacity to conceal yourself it is a wonder it took me twenty years to finally catch up to you." he remarked, shaking his head at the other man. Javert stealthily took up a well-hidden post opposite his, well; he didn't know just how to classify Valjean yet. Perhaps it would do to simply say Valjean was his.

"Just lucky I suppose." a deep voice sounded directly behind Javert, who was trained enough not to jump at such spontaneous action but regardlessly did not spare Jean a look of amused exasperation.

"Who is it?" queried Javert as he laid eyes upon the form of a young woman scrunched behind a pillar seemingly lying in wait for what he could not determine. Until that is, his eyes alighted upon the young thief pulling yellow flowers from the garden of the cottage they were occupying. "We should do something." he said, quietly, as if speaking to himself.

Valjean just smiled a small smile at him and put a finger to his lips. Then he mimed listening with exaggerated hand motions. "You do not have a future career in theater." replied Javert but he fell quiet as saw the boy walk into the young woman. The two men were at such an angle that the woman could not see them nor could anyone from the street. Tall foliage hid them from view but they were a perfect distance to catch the conversation between the lady and the boy.

As he listened Javert smiled. This woman had a sense of duty that much was plain and her respect for the law was obviously incontestable. Nevertheless, she was just in the way that she gave over some herbs to the young boy and his family once she deemed he had learned his lesson.

"She's like you." Javert did jump this time at Valjean's voice having been so engrossed in the drama that unfolded between the two unknown citizens outside. Though pieces of the discussion did not make it their way he had been able to hear the majority of the woman's reasoning. "She believes in the law...by faith and fire."

"Is that a compliment or a criticism?" asked Javert, his mouth a straight line; a tell tale sign he was feeling insecure.

"The former; there's nothing wrong with the law.."

"It's justice that's twisted." finished Javert, "I've learned that from these past few weeks." he smiled slightly once again as Valjean pulled him into his arms. He let out a breath and enjoyed the feeling of security and safety he found there. "Wait!" he exclaimed, opening his eyes and looking at Valjean whose eyes were twinkling as if he knew what Javert was going to say. "But she stole those flowers from this garden, she..."

A knock sounded at the door and Jean regrettably let go of his partner to grab his hand and dragged him to the foyer.

"But she.." intoned Javert, still hung up on the young woman's hypocrisy when Jean opened the door to reveal the lady in question. It was the first time Javert got a good look at her and he was speechless.

She took a step inside and shut the heavy door behind herself without breaking eye contact with the Inspector. Her eyes were the colour of clouds before a storm at sea; they were sharp and intelligent. They matched his.

Noticing the spark of recognition in his eyes she inclined her head briefly to him in a gesture of respect then proceeded to walk past him through the parlour and into the study.


End file.
